Path of Carnage
by heavensnote77
Summary: A young boy's life is destroyed by those hungry for power, and as he is touched by the hands of tragedy will Zoro walk down the path of carnage and vengeance to meet up with the enemy of his lifetime?
1. Chapter 1

"Mother! Look! Hawkeye has done it! He took down yet another syndicate…. Amazing". The boy's legs excitedly swung back and forth as he voraciously read through the front paper's headlines.

"He really is strong", the green haired boy re-iterated for about the fifth time that day.

A tall, gracious woman with the same healthy shade of green and dark eyes that matched any given night made her way towards the child.

"Of course Zoro, he has to be strong. There is no other way he could've done it if it wasn't for his talents with the sword."

Her gaze shifted towards the offending piece of paper that rested within her beloved son's delicate grasp.

Zoro stopped reading mid paragraph and directed a confused look at his mother who was now directly looking at Mihawk's full length picture with a tinge of sadness and worry. Zoro not wanting to upset his mother any further opted to set down the paper on the table and change the topic.

"Mother, what are we going to eat today? Miroku oji-san told me that he caught something that has never been seen in the 7 seas!"

Zoro shouted and suddenly realized how loud he was, shifting awkwardly in his seat.

"Can we go see it?"

Zoro's mother turned slowly to face him as she mustered a forced smile, "That's right…. Miroku oji-san always catches the tastiest of fishes, help me pick one Zoro, let's go!"

Children are very perceptive when it comes to behavioral changes in their parents, and Zoro was not an exception to this observation. As lost as he may be without his mother, his intuition was extremely sharp for a child of his age. Albeit, he stepped down from the stool where he was sitting at and dropped the paper in its respective place. He looked into his mother's eyes, naturally bringing about the hidden smile that tugged at his lips.

The young woman took in her son's splendor and her smile was no longer painfully tugging the side of her cheeks. As they stepped out of the house, a chilly breeze that was immediately disguised by the warm rays of the sun welcomed both mother and child. Their house stood on top of a small hill in which they could overlook the village day in and out. Small but cozy, this has been Zoro's home ever since he can remember.

The village that they were travelling to on the other hand, was not in any way ordinary. Isolated and untamable, the Roronoa Clan held such a reputation across the land, and because of it, no one has dared to cross paths with its inhabitants. It is known that said members of the clan carry that trademark green hair and gold jewelry which their personas heavily adorn themselves with. The village itself is placed between the curvaceous mountains and the trepidus sea, impeding the passage of travelers and merchandise from one region to the next.

Not only are they auto sufficient in feeding and providing for their village, they are also a clan that harvests warriors from birth into the metal binding nature. Zoro was aware that he belonged to such a clan and was very proud that he too would be able to wield that power when the time came. In order to become a candidate for one of the O Wazamono swords he had to show ambition and the hunger for recognition, nothing short of becoming the _World's Greatest Swordsmen_, his ultimate dream.

On the way towards the village, Zoro contemplated his dreams and the path he had to walk to achieve it. As they passed the cemetery, he observed the tombs and thought about the people who had passed for the sole mission of protecting their community. The many heroes that perished for this ideal and the upcoming warriors that will sacrifice themselves, Zoro himself included. His grandfather had done the ultimate sacrifice during a time not known to him, where war and pain had been commonplace. The swordsman who wielded the beautiful white Wado burned into the enemies and allies alike, remembered across time and his achievements recounted like a prayer.

Zoro was called out of his thoughts when he heard the bustle and murmur of people buying and dealing. As his mother held onto his hand and led him through the crowd, he heard a very familiar voice.

"Yo, Sanae-san…Zoro-kun! Over here!"

As if on cue, Zoro excitedly ran towards the middle aged man, skillfully weaving through and out the crowd. He had nearly crossed over to the other side safely when he tripped over a peddler's foot and bumped into the oncoming stranger.

"Damn it….. Mister I'm really sorry….oww."

With a gasp hitched in his throat, Zoro found himself paralyzed as he stared into the golden rims that closely mimicked those of a hawk. The stranger knelt down beside Zoro, thier gaze not once disconnecting, and with a swift movement he picked the boy up and placed him upright. As the man slowly stood up from his knelt position, Zoro could not help but stare at all the obvious peculiarities this man strode in town with. He was extremely tall, carrying a long dark coat, black boots and a brimmed hat that covered his facial features. He also seemed to carry a long item along his back, but that was hidden well with the dark cloak.

Yellow eyes shone brightly into dark pools as the young innocent boy was pulled in by a force he could not explain.

The man chuckled and patted Zoro on the head, "Boy, be careful."

Zoro stood there for what felt like hours until he heard his mother shouting beside him, "Zoro! What happened? Who was that man?" She placed her face close to his and searched desperately within his eyes for reciprocation.

"Sanae-san is he alright? Who was that man? He must be an outsider, I did not recognize him…." the middle aged man grudgingly spoke, sweeping his gaze throughout the growing crowd.

"I know… he was wearing suspicious attire as well. How did he get through the gates? There is no way he could've easily slipped through our wall", the frantic woman said.

Zoro had not been paying attention to the chaos he had inadvertently caused.

The boy regained his composure and bluntly yelled out to his mother, "That man had really weird eyes, it was scary at first but they looked really pretty . Just like a hawk!" Both adults remained silent.

Zoro's mother' breathing froze abruptly as a burning sensation made its way down her spine to the edge of her heels.

"Mother, I've seen those eyes before! I don't know where but I know I've seen them!" yelled Zoro.

Sanae turned away from Zoro sharply and directed her commanding voice towards Miroku.

"The village has been compromised. Please let the chief know and notify the squads about the breach."

As the older man took the orders his gaze shifted from the child to his mother, a gaze that was filled with confusion and anguish and with a voice that matched the tension in the air he solemnly said, "Sanae-san, why now?"

She cupped Zoro's hand in hers, ignoring the worried look that was drawn on his innocent face and responded dejectedly, "I feared this day would come and wished upon our moon and stars for it to never arrive. Night has come to feast on our light and blood, Miroku san, such is the wish of the Saijo O Wazamono."

Zoro held a look of apprehension at the sound of his mother's ominous foretelling while Miroku glared at the shadow of the moon that was weakly perched on the suns opposite. "Damn you, Yoru." He turned away from the nuisance only to see Sanae staring directly into the sunset.

The cruel reminder of a mortals dwindling time could have not matched the sun's setting visage at a better moment. She inwardly thought, 'We must find him before the moon reaches its highest point. I have to get Zoro to safety, this child must not become involved'.

"Keep me updated Miroku-san, please…be careful".

The fisherman simply grunted and wasted no time, as he turned around one last time to peer into the soulful eyes of this dedicated mother, whom he cherished and had unrequited feelings for, he never had the courage to unveil his pure intentions. However, in that precise moment he felt a sudden surge of love and devotion that was manifested in the need to protect her.

As he finally came to terms with his feelings, he couldn't help but shout out to Zoro, "Take care of your mother brat!" and with a smile, the kind man took off leaving a very confused Zoro.

"Zoro lets go home. I'm sorry that we couldn't get the fish that you wanted but I promise we will do so at another time. For now we have to make do with what we have at home. Let's go."

As Zoro was pulled towards their little house on the hill, his mother's words kept replaying throughout the whole journey back…. Night has come to feast... light… blood…. Yoru… Night…. Blood…. Yoru… Yoru.

Once they arrived at home, Sanae began closing all the windows and locking all doors. When the sun became the faintest line on the horizon, candles were not lit.

The time passed and Zoro knew better then to ask questions that would exacerbate the situation and make his mother tenser, but the need was overwhelming and he felt like he could no longer contain it.

"Mother, what is Yoru? Does it have to do with the man that I bumped into earlier? Why is the whole village on alert? His mother tensed at the onslaught of these questions.

"What is going on?"

Sanae simply sighed from where she was sitting and stood up from her chair and glided across the room to an altar. Once his mother reached up and took down the katana that was graciously placed there, he knew that what the village was dealing with was a serious matter.

"Mother, it's not that I'm scared but I really want to know what's going on. Why are you holding Wado?"

"Wado Ichimonji, Zoro…. Is my katana. As you know, our clan is gifted in the art of swordsmanship but of course, it's not pure training and devotion that makes us the swordsmen of high caliber. Have you ever asked yourself dear child, why every clansman holds the same color of hair as that of vegetation? Our blood carries nature itself, the life that is needed by Special Forces to occupy our swords and give it the strength we desire. It is a trait that only people of our clan share. This sword was given to me by my father when his life force was burnt out by overusing Wado during the Great War. That is how I came upon it at such a young age despite my total lack of enthusiasm for bloodshed".

Zoro had stepped away from the window and had slowly walked over beside his mother to see the item that she was grasping with so much fervor.

"There are 21 O Wazamono, 50 Ryo Wazamono, and 12 of the Saijo O Wazamono swords, remember those numbers well Zoro". As the young Roronoa glanced at the beautiful white katana in his mothers grasp, he bluntly asked, "What does this have to do with Yoru and the stranger?

"Zoro , Yoru is -….. Shhh." Sanae's gaze was torn from his and shifted abruptly to the door. He tried to strain his hearing for any muffled noises but was instead met with complete silence. Zoro's heart was beating at a faster pace, if whatever his mother told him minutes ago to be true he should not be feeling this. The clan is beyond formidable, why is he feeling unsteady and so vulnerable at the moment? In an act to counter his cowardly behavior, Zoro decided to get closer to the window to see whether he was able gauge information from the village, Miroku Oji-san's words pulling him faster towards his goal.

"Zoro what are you doing! Get back- "

A loud bang reverberated across the room and shortly after, Zoro felt several small and hot sensations blemishing across his face and the left side of his body. Once he opened his eyes he noticed the window was shattered and that there was glass in every direction. He was more shocked than in pain as he gazed upward and found himself in a similar position to earlier that day.

Again, those tantalizing hawk eyes staring back at him and Zoro unable to do anything about it. The man from earlier was standing on the window sill like a hawk peering into a nest to snatch its prey away. He was glued to the ground, fear creeping into his mind as blinding as the fist that made way towards his face. Zoro felt knuckles embedded in his cheekbones and with a loud thud he was plummeted to the unforgiving hardness of the floor.

"Stay put boy and let the adults talk" a cold smirk plastered on his face.

His mother screamed his name as she unsheathed Wado and lunged herself towards the towering man. Sanae had swung Wado and attacked the man aiming the katana at his right side of the head. Zoro saw how he effortlessly blocked it and pulled out his sword to attack. He swung his weapon at his mother, she blocked and returned the attack, this time it was aimed at his chest. He diverted her swing and used his hand to unarm her and proceeded to backhand slap her across the face. Sanae's defenseless body lay on the bare floor as the intruder kicked the katana to the side and was now hovering over her.

"You're the last stop in my mission, weakling. Everything else has been annihilated, Yoru could not be anymore happier".

Through labored breathing, Sanae managed to spit out, "You will not win Mihawk… I will not let you win". The steel gaze that was reflected onto Hawkey's eyes steadied his blood thirst for a second. The shrill and cold laughter that followed brought Zoro back to the realization that his mother was in terrible danger and no one has arrived to help.

'What is his name…. Mihawk? It can't possibly be Mihawk. What is he doing here? Move… just move! Mom is fighting alone…. I have to protect her….'

The room was suddenly filled with screams as the man punched Sanae in the face and kicked her in the ribs. Zoro broke free from his trance as he welcomed his bubbling blood, boiling beyond the word rage. The old and new pain numbed down to make way to the murderous intent invading the core of his soul and seeping like poison to contaminate his surroundings.

As Zoro grabbed the largest glass shard he could find he attacked the stranger while screaming out, "Aghhhhhhhh! Don't you dare touch my mother,** BASTARD**! Leave us alone!"

The stranger chuckled while he took note of the child's killing intent, "Fairly impressive for someone of such a young age, show me your best move, boy."

The man whipped around just in time to rip the glass shard from Zoro's grasp and punch him in the gut with the intention of knocking him out. Zoro fell to the cool floor, fighting against the blackness that was threatening to take over his consciousness. He did not permit it, he fought against it. He got back up, his legs shaking like a newborn fawn, but he couldn't abandon his mother in this imminent danger.

Something caught his attention as he peered through the window, orange and red flames, angry as the rising sun spread throughout the whole village, engulfing everything that he knew. "The village is on fire! What did you do? Why are you attacking us"? Tears threatening to spill over with strangled sobs. "What do you want?!"

"I've only come for one thing yet your people have denied it from me. They only got nothing less of what they deserved. Zoro visibly cringed at this man's coldhearted confession.

"Brat, let me tell you one thing. Your instinct to survive is impressive, a lot stronger than many of those weak hearted fools that I've fought against".

Zoro lifted his head to gaze at his newly hated enemy only to see his mother struggling helplessly in his clutches.

"Ahhh… mother! Let her go!" the child desperately yelled out.

"Zoro, run! Leave me be! Run and don't come back!" Sanae yelled between harsh breaths.

"Fool. You incite your child to act in cowardly ways. Don't hasten death for him, I will guarantee you if he flees, he will not get far."

The man turned eerily towards Zoro, the dare hanging dangerously in the air.

"Pro-promise me one thing- you can take my life, I will not fight against it… so please do not take my child's life. Yoru only needs what runs within me…. do not shed anymore blood. Just t- ttake me! Just ttake-…. Zoro… No!"

Sanae yelled out as she looked at her son's confident stance, now complete with her Wado held tightly in his grasp.

"Bastard… let go of my mother…" the child barked out.

The air was tense, there was no room to breathe, Zoro's wounds were bleeding profusely, the majority located across his torso and shoulder. The blood kept running into his eye from a deep gash made above it.

The dark man gave Zoro his full attention and laughed coldly to the air, "Hahahaha! Splendid. Your strength is commendable young one. Allow me to cut your worthless ties and send you off on a path in which you will get stronger, a path of true carnage. When the time comes, stand before me like you are doing so at the present moment, I will not take anything less."

As the dark cloaked man with the brimmed hat lifted the shoulder that held the aforementioned sword, Zoro's chest tightened with fear of what was to come next. He sprinted towards the man, with Wado in his hand, knowing that he would be unable to get to her in time, as he too lifted Wado to swing at his enemy, Yoru swung in unison only to impale his dear mother through the heart. The child's strength was sapped that very instant, his despair threatening to avalanche into chaotic madness as his mother's blood drenched freely to form pools right beneath her retching body.

He pulled out the sword and threw Sanae onto the floor. He waited for the pool of blood to get larger and said, "Drink up sweet Yoru, power is of essence, drink."

Zoro could only stare at his mother's absent gaze. He would no longer be able to see her smile, or fall asleep to the beat of her heart. The despair that was piling up exponentially due to her loss was swallowing him whole. He didn't even bother with her murderer who was still sharing the same space with him; there was no concern or hatred, just emptiness.

The man clad in black had completed his duty to his sword. He had purged an entire village to soak his blade within the numerous powers offered to him. The night had caught up to him and now he was tired. He just had one more eyesore to deal with before he can retire for the remainder of the night. As Hawkeye observed the young child kneeled by the woman's corpse, he decided to entertain a peculiar idea.

"Boss, we've burnt down the village, this is the only one that's left. Have you absorbed the 21st wielder?" said the man standing by the doorway.

"Yes…..Excellent, I can feel it, all 21 of O Wazamono's wielders lie within Yoru." The stranger responded to the gruff man standing in the doorway. "Well if you don't mind, I would like to get out of bumpkinville and actually go back to civilization. Oi, Boss…. Who's the kid? I thought your orders were to kill everybody. Do you want me to finish him? I would gladly do so!" As the short man pulled his axe and walked towards Zoro, the boy grabbed Wado by pure instinct and rose to protect himself and his mother's body.

"Hahaha, boss you really found a lively one! Does the kid know he's the last one of his kind? Is that why he keeps fighting? 'Cause I wouldn't!" The stout man's laugh cut through Zoro more sharply than any of those shards of glass did.

"YOU LIE!" the green haired boy shouted. "We are the strongest, no one can defeat us!"

"My… poor little kid. He's delusional boss. HAHAHA! No worries, I'll send you out with the rest of your green haired freaks, pleasant dreams! HAHAHA- blurph-".

Zoro had never seen the insides of a human body, that was, until the short man before him was cleaved in half by the man clad in black. He had also failed to notice how that same stroke from that accursed sword had swiftly ran across his chest, creating one of the most painful wounds Zoro had ever had to bear. As the young boy cried while clutching his chest in pure agony, the stranger came by and sat beside him.

"Your clan was strong young Roronoa, but unfortunately I had to sacrifice their lives including your mother's in order to attain my dream. I now hold the title of the World's Strongest Swordsmen, so come at me whenever you are ready. I will be waiting."

The man with eyes like a hawk left the room, leaving the last of the Roronoa's clutching fervently to life. It was at that moment that Zoro felt the weight of his emotions, it was for his mother, his people, his inability to avenge them, and the fact that he was lying in his own pool of blood and was about to die because of it. He took one last glimpse at Wado, which now laid in the same pool of blood that he found himself in, and welcomed unconsciousness for all of its worth.

And during this life changing moment, Wado also welcomed its newly acquired master.


	2. Chapter 2

As the man made his descent from the last wielders house he couldn't suppress the uncomfortable flicker adorning the façade also known as doubt crawling down through his spine with each given step as he distanced himself from the house. He knew that by turning his back on the young boy he was not only jeopardizing his future but everything that he was most likely going to build from this point forward. He let the brat live, no harm done. Mihawk was only ensuring decent entertainment in the times to come, yet as foreboding as it may seem to have someone consistently strive to take down your head, Mihawk enjoyed the exhilaration. Well, that is only if the child survives. As his mind entertained the notion and coped with the limitless options as to what kind of a warrior the young Roronoa can potentially metamorphose into, men clad in black resurfaced from every house in the central part of the village, carrying blood soaked weapons and eyes forever numb to the carnage and violence.

A cackle followed by a gleeful smile spread across Mihawk's features as he asked, "Am I correct to assume that no survivor remains?"

"No Sir, not one dog breathes". The monotone group held their stance, waiting for their master to bark out the next order.

"Excellent. For now we shall return, collect your items and meet me at the half mark by sunrise. But first, I want this village obliterated from the map. Burn it to the ground. That is all". With that last command, the group took off in different directions, each spreading the angry element across houses, bodies and trees. By the time the last member made it back to the entrance, the whole village was spewing flames into a dense and black sky that obscured the moon and its light.

"Daddy how much longer before we get there?" A girl with dark hair exhaustedly muttered.

"Not much longer dear, I say we'll be arriving shortly, or do you want to camp out and touch base at the village after breakfast?"

The young girl vigorously nodded from side to side, she would do anything in her power to not spend another night under the moon and stars. Her father adored the outdoors and actually encouraged these little escapades, something about training your body and soul and maintaining that essential balance that every warrior must possess. She could not stress enough how poorly she does in the outdoors. The insects, the bathroom situations and most importantly the lack of comfort throughout her sleeping nights that would otherwise be found in her futon back at home. Remembering her ordeal with the June beetle earlier that day granted her enough misery to bring forth the required strength to push her through the rest of the night.

"I really do hope that clan is as strong as you say dad. I did not make this hellish trip to be disappointed". Her father turned around just in time to see her pouting face and assured her with his smile and statement, "The Roronoa clan has been the strongest for as long as any being has lived on this land Kuina. They live by strength, and strength equals respect. Always remember. As father and daughter continued to walk through the forest, Kuina's imagination took a wild spin. She had no idea what the Roronoa's looked like, were they savage beasts with green hair and sharp fangs that live more like wild animals then humans? The horror stories surrounding the village always began with intense and brutal battles showered in irrationality and suspense; did these tall tales hold any truth? But then she remembered that her father had told her that the clan was gifted in wielding katanas such as the Meito status blades. She also heard how one specific katana, the Wado Ichimonji was a weapon of its own class. Her father had described it as a refined and exquisite katana, caressing a flowers petal with one swing and yet capable of cutting steel in the next.

In Kuina's opinion, anyone who wields a katana with beauty and grace was under no means considered a soulless beast. Also, for her father to have a friend amongst such a fear inducing clan, made her curiosity bubble freely to the surface.

Kuina paused as she gathered enough courage to ask the next question, "How do you know someone from the Roronoa Clan dad? The name carries enough weight to scare the nastiest of mountain bandits away. Do you not fear them?"

It was Kojiro's turn to pout, "Listen Kuina, I respect the clan therefore I do not fear it. Respect is never the equivalent to fear. Always and I repeat, always remember that. It's a long story that I shall tell you at another time, but basically the person that I know within the clan is the current deputy. The previous clan leader passed away in the last war so at the moment she has assumed the aforementioned status. Her father had chosen her brother as heir but circumstances not known to me led to his untimely demise. For now, she is taking charge until her son is capable of taking the reins himself. Kuina…. Are you listening?"

"Daddy that's amazing! Women can also be leaders!?" The girl had conveniently isolated the word 'deputy', envisioning a world in which she selectively placed women in absolute power.

"Now listen Kuina, this was a special case because of the clan leader's sudden death and the lack of immediate male heirs who are mature enough for the position". He was staring intently at his daughter, hoping that she would understand that this clan was in no way whatsoever the utopia that she hungrily desired. Koshiro understood his daughter's suffering and the unfairness of the world as to how gender roles are heavily expressed. Kuina's troubles lie in a thin line between acceptance and rebellion, her young mind so bendable and receptive to any foreign influence. And yet, it does not have to be foreign influence, it can very well be negative comments and opinions held by your friends, neighbors or colleagues. Such a thing had already happened at the dojo, a fight that had been targeted at his daughter. A group of boys would incessantly pick on her just because she was a girl. Calling her names and going as far as to tell her that no man would want to take a tomboy as a wife, and that learning how to fight was not a woman's job but only that of a man's. Kuina fought back, arguing that gender should not matter and she had as much right to be there as any of them. She also argued that they shouldn't waste her father's time, because they were all weaklings that will never amount to anything. She was strong; therefore, she should be there over all the others. Koshiro smiled as he remembered the stupefied faces of each one of the boys, they were trying to formulate a comeback but had failed apparently. So a fist fight broke out instead and the instructor was urgently pressed to separate the children from one another, including his own.

Kuinas's voice tore through his memory as she asked, "By the way, are we almost there? I see lights!" She ran to the edge of the forest, her happy gait ceasing to a sudden halt. "Dad… something's wrong…"

Koshiro broke into a loose jog, passing several evergreens and their over sprouting roots. He ran up to his daughter and followed her line of vision. His eyes pulled in the image of the village but his brain was not processing the gravity of the situation. The clan's home was angrily burning away, leaving behind noticeable traces of soot and ashes tumbling across the night sky.

Whispers. Whispering. Something was speaking, but he couldn't tell what it was saying. He tried focusing on the syllables but the angry spiral going through his head was blocking his hearing. All he wanted to do was sleep, sleep so deeply that not even his mother could wake him up. His mother…..mother? Why does the thought of his mother carry such sadness? Tasting paranoia, Zoro tried to pry himself from the clutches of sleep. Instead he concentrated on the voice and whatever it had to say. With his eyes still closed and the lingering pain becoming dominantly present, he felt life flicker from the core. The voice alarmingly rose with it, its last words booming with fierceness, "**RUN**!"


End file.
